Christmas Elf
by T. Fowler
Summary: Set in the future of the Accidental Drag Queen universe, Bruce and Jonathan spend Christmas together. Sugar isn't quite sure about her outfit. slash, Bruce/Jonathan Crane


The problem with being a billionaire playboy was that there were so many expectations of you. Especially during the holiday season. So many damn parties and ballets and other public appearances that everyone expected him to attend. And, if Bruce didn't attend even one performance of the _Nutcracker_ or skipped out on one party, every newspaper in the Goddamn city had to run pages and pages of speculation as to why.

It made having a secret, ex-villain, drag queen boyfriend very inconvenient sometimes. Not that it was ever convenient, of course, especially considering that Bruce's alter-ego was supposed to be on the lookout for his boyfriend's alter-ego at the same time. Well. One of his boyfriend's alter-ego. He wasn't sure what use Batman would have with either Sugar or Sean Miller. Batman was rather single-minded.

So was Bruce. Right now. Because it was nearly midnight on Christmas Eve, and Bruce had been trying all night to get away from the oh so boring Christmas party he'd been forced to attend for appearances sake. An appearance where he had to appear to get drunk and grope models and actresses and the wives of the rich and powerful underneath mistletoe and generally appear to be a congenial, overindulgent asshole to everyone. Business as usual, in other words.

He hadn't wanted to go to the party at all. He wanted to go Chicago to meet with Jonathan. He'd wanted to spend all Christmas Eve and Christmas with his boyfriend. But, as Alfred had pointed out, Bruce Wayne missing from Christmas Eve festivities would be too conspicuous. Christmas day was family time. Jonathan could wait until then.

Of course, Bruce thought bitterly as he eased the gas pedal down, Alfred wouldn't have been quite so disapproving had it been Batman-related emergency that had taken Bruce from the party. And considering the general air of disapproval that Alfred gave Batman, that was saying something.

Alfred had never come around to Bruce's relationship with Jonathan. No matter how much Bruce tried to convince him that Jonathan had changed, Alfred remained skeptical. But, as he said, Bruce was a grown man and could do as he liked. As long as he kept up appearances.

Bruce hated appearances. He was sick of them, sick of living his life according to them. As his car tore through the blackness, he pondered, yet again, of the plausibility of passing Jonathan off as a woman and bringing him to Gotham. As his wife. Or lover or whatever.

Impossible, he knew. Jonathan wasn't a woman. He would be miserable pretending to be something he wasn't. Plus, there would be so much expected of the wife of Bruce Wayne. Benefits to run and people to kiss up to. The wife of Bruce Wayne, after all, wasn't just a wife. It was a title. It was power and prestige, and she would have to be in the public eye, running the Wayne home and keeping Bruce in line.

Jonathan, reserved, quiet, bookish Jonathan would hate it. The ironic thing was Sugar would be perfect. She handled people so easily, flirting and teasing in her subdued way, subtly manipulating them to her will. She would be the perfect person to take up the long neglected reigns left hanging by Martha Wayne's death.

But, Sugar wasn't just Sugar, and Jonathan couldn't be her all the time. She was just one part of his personality and all parts deserved a chance to shine.

If only Jonathan hadn't tried to take the whole city hostage. If only Bruce didn't feel the need to dress up like a giant bat and beat up criminals. Life would be so much simpler if they were just a billionaire playboy and his drag queen boyfriend.

It was after one in the morning when he finally made it to the city. The streets were empty except for a few stragglers shuffling along the snowy sidewalks. The church on the corner was packed, light spilling out, the doors practically bulging. Midnight mass was nearing its end, and people would start flooding out any moment.

Jonathan had long since moved out of Cherry's apartment into one of his own. It was small, paid and furnished by his own salary with no help from Bruce, no matter how much Bruce wanted, but it was in a safe neighborhood. It had a security guard. And a doorman. And a security system.

Jonathan was safe.

The elevator was taking too long. Anxious to be with his boyfriend, Bruce ran up the stairs. Let himself into the apartment. "Hello?" He knew Jonathan was probably awake; he would have just gotten off work an hour or so ago. "Jonathan?"

"I'm in here."

"I'm sorry I'm so late." Bruce dropped his coat on a chair. Toed off his shoes in the middle of the living room. Jonathan hated it when Bruce did that, but he hated it more when Bruce wore his shoes inside. "I had trouble getting away at the party. Those supermodels are…" His voice died.

Jonathan was sitting on the edge of the bed. He looked up when Bruce came in. There was a look of abject misery on his face.

"Cherry said you'd like it," he whispered. He dropped his eyes again.

His dress was a dark green trimmed with white fur around the bust. The hem was jagged, bells on the edges. A black belt cinched his waist, and white lace stockings encased long legs. On his feet were beautiful, satin green shoes with delicate heels. There was silver anklet around Jonathan's ankle and a black choker around his neck. Jonathan, no, _Sugar_ was wearing a green Santa-style hat on her blonde hair, which fell around her shoulders in soft curls.

"Is that mistletoe?" Bruce asked hoarsely, looking at the choker. There was a small green plant with red berries on it.

"Yes." Sugar's voice this time, a soft, throaty whisper. She looked up at him through her lashes.

The misery had faded somewhat, but Bruce could still see the uncertainty on Sugar's face. She was still so unsure of herself. And unsure of Bruce. Sugar couldn't believe that Bruce truly loved her; Bruce couldn't imagine anyone not loving her.

Bruce crossed the room. Knelt in front of Sugar and ran his hands up her thighs. "God, Sugar. You're…" He lifted his hand. Cupper her cheek. Caressed her lips with his thumb.

She blushed. "I look stupid."

"You're beautiful."

The blush deepened. Sugar touched the white fluffy ball at the end of the hat. "Cherry said that elves are sexy. She helped me get into this. Did my make-up. I think I look stupid."

Bruce leaned into Sugar and pressed a kiss to the hollow of her throat, just below the mistletoe. "You are unbelievably sexy." He kissed again. Moved up Jonathan's neck, placing small kisses along the way. "God, Sugar, you're beautiful."

Sugar put her hands on his shoulders. She leaned into him. "I am?"

Bruce growled low in his throat. Found her mouth and kissed her, long and deep. Pressed her down onto the bed, stroking down the length of her body. Petting the soft satin dress, the silky stockings. Pushed the hem up to reveal the matching lingerie hidden underneath.

His heart sped up. He pushed himself up and climbed onto Sugar. "Yes," he whispered, stroking her face again. You are." And then, he set about showing her exactly how beautiful he found her.

After, they lay tangled together. They'd managed to keep the dress on Jonathan, although it was rumpled and pulled all askew. He'd lost his wig, and Bruce was now wearing the Santa hat.

Sweat-damp, make up smudge, Jonathan lay in Bruce's arms, glowing. Radiant.

"You know," Jonathan said. He rolled onto his side, facing Bruce. Flung a leg over him. "There are ears, too."

Bruce pushed up to his elbow. "Ears?"

Jonathan grinned, and Sugar batted her eyelashes at him. "Little pointed ones." He rolled over. Grabbed them off nightstand and turned back. "See?"

"Put them on." Then, as Jonathan did, Bruce rolled onto him. Kissed him again. "Merry Christmas, Jonathan."

"Merry Christmas, Bruce."


End file.
